You're My Gravity
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Post-epish for Walk Like A Man. It be Carby.


Title: You're My Gravity  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: Post-ep for Walk Like A Man; picks up right where it left off, so if you don't know how  
it ended, it doesn't really matter because this really deals very little with the actual ep. It's all  
fluff, of course!  
  
Archive: It would rock my world. Seriously. Just let me know, first, please!  
  
Disclaimers: I go through this every time. *sigh* They're not mine. DER.  
  
  
  
  
  
This man...wow. This man is absolutely amazing.  
  
As much as I hate it, he has every reason in the world to be mad at me at the moment, and here he  
is, standing in front of me, just being his usual, wonderful self. He doesn't judge me; he may not  
agree with my choices, but he doesn't judge me.  
  
I inch forward a little and slowly wrap my arms around him. He leans into me and puts his arms  
around my waist. We rest our foreheads together and just stand there for while, happy to be  
together.  
  
I know for a fact that John Carter is the best thing that has ever happened to me. There's no way  
to get around it. Not that I have any interest in denying it.  
  
I know what I'm doing–the alcoholic's motto.   
  
We always think we know what we're doing. Right now, I know what I'm doing–heading down  
the path of destruction again. It may take a while to get there at the rate I'm going, but I'll get  
there. If I keep drinking. Because it'll start out with a casual drink with friends in a social  
situation. Then I'll be all right to drink a glass of wine at dinner. Then it'll be two glasses. Then  
a bottle. Then I'll be drinking before I go to bed at night. And then when I wake up in the  
morning. And pretty soon, I'll be toasted all the time. Again.   
  
Maybe I do need him to help me. I don't have to go through this alone; why should I let my pride  
get in the way? I have this absolutely wonderful man who has nothing but my best interests at  
heart. What exactly is so wrong about letting him help me?  
  
I finally pull my head away from his and look into his eyes. He gives me a soft, sweet smile. This  
is right. The time is right. I said I was going to stop hiding from him.   
  
I take a deep breath and say, "I love you, John."  
  
Oh, my God. I can't believe I said it. My heart is slamming against my ribcage. My legs feel like  
they're going to buckle and I'm going to collapse at any moment.  
  
Carter looks completely stunned. I guess he wasn't expecting that. Hell, I wasn't really  
expecting that. I didn't think I'd have the guts to say it. Nevermind the fact that I said it first.   
Wow.  
  
His mouth is hanging open a little, and I don't think he's blinked yet. I'm not even sure if he's  
breathing. So, I'm beginning to get understandably worried. Complete silence at a moment like  
this doesn't do a whole lot for a girl's ego.  
  
"Carter...please say something."  
  
He swallows hard, then whispers, "Say it again."  
  
I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "I love you."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"More than anything. I've never been so sure of anything in my life."  
  
He brings his hands up to the sides of my face and cups my cheeks. "God, Abby, I love you,  
too."  
  
I think my heart is going to explode. He loves me. He really, actually loves me. This is the most  
incredible feeling I've ever had. I'm in love with John Carter. He's in love with me. We're in  
love with each other.  
  
God help me, I'm crying. And I couldn't care less. Carter just told me he loves me; I'm allowed  
to cry. I'm not sobbing; I just have two rivers of tears trickling down from my eyes. I hadn't  
realized that my eyes had flooded until I blinked and my cheeks were wet. And then I realize that  
Carter is crying, too. I think it may be the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.   
  
I sniffle a little, and bring up a hand to wipe his cheeks. His thumbs are stroking my own cheeks,  
trying to wipe away my tears. A moment later, he pulls my face toward his and kisses me. It feels  
different than any other kiss we've shared. And it's wonderful.  
  
I don't know how much later (it could be moments, it could minutes, hours, eons) we pull apart,  
but an instant later, we're hugging again. And then I'm laughing. I'm laughing and crying all at  
once. I can't tell which way is up or down; the world around us seems like it's faded away and  
we're the only two people left on the planet. I feel like I'm floating and the only thing anchoring  
me to the earth is Carter. I have never felt anything like this before in my entire life.  
  
Carter is laughing, too. I don't think either of us know what we're laughing about, but it feels  
really good. It feels great. I feel free. I feel happy. And most of all, I feel loved.  
  
I finally manage to pull myself away from him, though. I immediately take his hand in mine, while  
wiping my face with the other. "Come on. Let's go inside."  
  
I dig my keys out of my pocket and unlock the door, and we make our way upstairs to my  
apartment. As I work on unlocking the door, it occurs to me that I haven't really been here in a  
few weeks. I've made a couple of quick stops to pick up clothes and my mail, and to check my  
messages, but other than that, I've been at Carter's. I can't remember the last time I spent a night  
here. I know we did early on, but we've mainly been sticking to his place.  
  
Once we're inside, I look around. It's obvious no one has lived here for a while. It doesn't look  
dirty or anything. It just looks unused. A thin layer of dust has settled on everything. I bet the  
milk in my fridge is rancid by this point. I don't know; it may soon be time to give up this place.  
  
I turn around and look at Carter, just realizing that I've still got his hand tightly in mine. I don't  
think he cares, though. Actually, he looks pretty damn happy at the moment. He has an  
incredibly goofy grin on his face. Of course, I probably have the exact same expression going on  
right now, too. I think my cheeks are starting to ache from smiling so much.  
  
"So," I say, "Are you hungry?"  
  
He shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.  
  
"Well, then what do you want to do?"  
  
"I'm open to suggestions."  
  
I grin at him cheekily. "Sex?"  
  
"Sounds good to me," he answers without hesitating, moving toward the bedroom. But, we  
don't rush there. We walk slowly, side by side, hand in hand. No one leading anyone. No  
tugging, no pulling, no pushing.  
  
We don't monkey around with undressing each other, though. We're both quite eager to be skin  
to skin. I would call this make-up sex, but I think it's going to be so much more than that.  
  
And I'm right. This time feels so completely different than any other time we've made love. As  
cheesy and corny as it sounds, it's because it's with love. We've never done this while knowing  
we were in love with each other before. Nothing is being held back. Not that I'd say we've ever  
really held back before. But since I didn't know he loves me and he didn't know that I love him, I  
guess we've always restrained ourselves a little in the past. Now, we've got nothing to hide.  
  
He is amazing.  
  
In so many different ways.   
  
I've heard people say before that you always feel differently about your first love than you do  
about anyone else you fall in love with in your lifetime. I think the same thing can be said about  
your last love. There's something just absolutely amazing about knowing you're with the person  
you're going to love for the rest of your life. And I know that John is my last love.  
  
Right now, I'm sitting on the fire escape, watching the lights of Chicago at night. John's in bed  
asleep–I think I wore him out. I'm wearing his dress shirt. It's way too big for me, but it smells  
like him. It's a very nice smell.  
  
I take another drag from my cigarette and lean against the railing. I know it's a bad habit and it's  
very unhealthy, but I've had a hell of a day. Parts of it have been wonderful, I won't deny that,  
but parts of it have been confusing and painful, and right now, I just need a little bit of nicotine.   
Besides, people stereotypically smoke after good sex, and I just had really great sex.  
  
"What're you doing out here, Abby?"  
  
I jump a little at the sound of his voice, but I don't turn around. "Just thinking."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"You, mostly."  
  
He comes up behind me and leans against my back, and puts his arms on either side of mine on  
the railing. He kisses the back of my neck before leaning his face against mine. "Good thoughts  
or bad thoughts."  
  
"Good thoughts," I tell him. "Very good thoughts."  
  
"Thanks for stealing my shirt, by the way."  
  
I smile. "It looks better on me, anyway."  
  
"Can't deny that."  
  
We stand in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I pull another cigarette out of the pack and  
light it up.  
  
"What's with the smoking?" he asks. "I haven't seen you smoke in while."  
  
I shrug. "Long day. Stressful day. I didn't know what was wrong with us, and I didn't know  
how to fix it. I was afraid you were going to leave me." I let out a sigh. "I actually killed my last  
pack on the way home tonight, so I had to buy a new one."  
  
He nods, then I feel him pause. "Did you walk home from the hospital?"  
  
"Part way. I needed the time to think. Then I got on the El because I was thinking too much."  
  
He kisses the side of my neck. Then my jaw line. Then my ear, and finally my temple. "I wish I  
could say we'll never fight or get mad at each other again..."  
  
"But that's impossible," I finish. "And unhealthy. If we don't fight, then we're keeping  
everything bottled up, and that really winds up sucking."  
  
I look over and realize that he's taking a hit off my cigarette. I shake my head, but let it slide. He  
almost never smokes anymore, and he probably needs it tonight as much as I do.  
  
"You were right," I say.  
  
"About what?"  
  
"I need help."  
  
"I never said you need help, Abby. I just said I want to help you."  
  
"Same thing. But I need help, John. It's not easy for me to admit it. Just because I think I have  
it under control doesn't mean I do."  
  
"So, what should we do?"  
  
He said "we." I love when he says "we." It just reminds me that we're in this together.  
  
"I need to start going to meetings again. On a regular basis for while. I think that's as good a  
place as any to start. And now that Susan knows, I can guarantee you she won't let me near  
alcohol the next time we go out."  
  
"Do you want me to go to the meetings with you?" he asks.  
  
"If you want to come with–"  
  
He cuts me off. "Do you want me to come to the meetings with you?"  
  
I think about it for a few moments, then nod. "Yeah. I think it'll help to have you by my side."  
  
"I'll always be by your side, Abby. I promise."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Once again, we're silent for a while, until he speaks up again, his voice barely above a whisper.   
"We'll get through this together, Abby. No matter how long it takes. We'll get through  
everything together. I don't care what kind of obstacles life throws at us, we'll always figure out  
some way to get through it."  
  
I turn my head and lean over to kiss him. "Okay," I whisper against his lips.  
  
He rubs my arms a few times before saying, "Let's go back to bed."  
  
I take a final drag off my cigarette, then flick it over the side. I follow him back through the  
window and into bed, taking off his shirt in the process. We meet in the middle of the bed,  
wrapping our arms around each other. Right now, there's no way we can possibly get close  
enough to each other. I feel like I could crawl into his skin and still not be close enough. So this  
will have to do.  
  
"I love you," he whispers, kissing my forehead.  
  
I smile and kiss his chest in return. "I love you, too."  
  
God, do I love him.  
  
  
  
*Author's notes: This is how I really wanted Walk Like A Man to end. I don't know what  
happened after the scene faded out, but it'd be cool if it was something like this. I think my only  
problem with this section is that I don't know what I'm going to do if we actually get some kind  
of first time I love you thing on the show. I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. For now,  
I hope everyone enjoyed it!  
  
In case anyone has been wondering about the titles of my stories...they occasionally pertain to the  
theme of the story. Sometimes, I'll be listening to a song as I write, and I hear a lyric that I think  
would be a great title, so I use it. This one, for example is from a song called Absence of Fear by  
Jewel; it's one of the greatest lines in the song, and it works for me. Anyhoo, enough with  
that...* 


End file.
